Mullen's Slow Changes
The secret of family, land and
life in the Sandhills. Story by Christopher Amundson Photography by Christopher Amundson and Bobbi and Steve Olson |
 |
 |
| Click on the above image for a slide show of more images from Mullen |
Change comes slowly in Mullen and that’s part of the charm. Sheriff Nick
Nichols and his part-time deputy keep peace in Hooker County and its 721 square
miles. But there’s little to worry about. Folks here generally tend to
their own problems and look out for neighbors.
Nichols retired from the state patrol
ten years ago and took the Hooker County job after his wife said six months
of retirement was enough.
“These are good people. I wouldn’t
be sheriff here if it was the other way,” he said.
I met Nichols outside the county courthouse
and police station in Mullen, the lone town of Hooker County. It’s a clean
little town built on sandy hills at the junction of State Highway 97 and Scenic
Byway 2. It was a railroad town and named for a railroad manager. Today, coal
trains rumble through almost hourly.
Mullen proper covers less than half
a square mile, but Mullen’s economy and identity span the entire county
as well as a good chunk Cherry County to the north. The all-important school
district and volunteer fire district overlap this territory and funnel children
and property tax dollars into Mullen.
Located at the center of the Sandhills,
Mullen has been ranch country since the UBI, Spade and Standard companies began
free-ranging cattle here in the 1890s. Ripples of grass-covered sand dunes stretch
from horizon to horizon in every direction. The Middle Loup River twists through
wide valleys north and east of town. Two branches of the Dismal River cut steep
tree-lined canyons before merging in southern Hooker County. The Ogallala Aquifer
– Nebraska’s underground ocean – feeds rivers, wet meadows
and windmills. Eight hundred souls live in Hooker County, about five hundred
of these in Mullen itself. Cattle outnumber hat-wearing bipeds thirty to one.
Nichols would have had his hands full had he been sheriff here a hundred years
ago. The Kinkaid Act of 1904 broke up the free-range cattle companies and gave
the land to settlers in 640-acre blocks. Teddy Roosevelt and his attorney general
started the forerunner of the FBI in 1908 in part to sort out clashes between
Kinkaiders and free-rangers.
One of the first cases assigned to
this special agent division was the 1908 murder of O.F. Hamilton. He made his
living by finding land and helping settlers acquire it through the Kinkaid Act.
Ranchers to this day call him a “snooper.”
Late one night, Hamilton was drinking
at the Blind Pig Saloon in downtown Mullen when the owner, Bob McBride, offered
three friends $1,000 to “rub him out.”
They drew straws, but the man who
drew the short straw backed out. Harry McIntyre, a railroad brakeman from Seneca,
walked over to the drunken Hamilton and cracked him over the head until he fell
to the floor.
Then they heard a knock on the back
door. Quickly, the men stuffed Hamilton in the cellar and covered the bloody
floor with sweeping compound. They opened the door, and saloon business carried
on as usual.
Two years later a federal agent posing
as a ranch hand befriended the man who had drawn the short straw. He led authorities
to Hamilton’s grave under the gates of the Mullen stockyards.
McIntyre stood trial that summer.
His lawyer insisted that Hamilton’s skull be admitted as evidence, but
when Hamilton’s new grave was dug up, authorities found a body with no
head injury. Instead, they found the body of a black man who had been struck
by a train and buried by the tracks. Uprooted sunflowers at his grave gave a
clue to the body switch.
Witnesses testified that McIntyre
was the killer, but he was acquitted due to lack of physical evidence.
I heard the story from Frank and Beth
Harding at the Hooker County Museum. The Hardings are one of the many ranch
couples who retired to Mullen after passing along their ranching operations
to their children. Frank is now the county’s official historian.
That night I sat in The Rustic Lounge
downtown, having supper and reading a book of local history. Construction workers
from out of town sat at another table drinking beer. Ranchers sat at the bar.
A poster of a professional bull rider and native son Justin McBride hung on
the wall overlooking my table.
I was reading about the Hamilton murder
when I noticed a photo of Hamilton and the straw-drawing trio together in the
Blind Pig. The text under the photo explained that the Blind Pig later became
a general store, then was rebuilt after a fire and is now known as… The
Rustic Lounge. The murder happened within a few feet of where I was sitting.
There’s no better way to experience
the exciting and sometimes dark history of Nebraska’s Old West than right
where it happened.
Mullen residents assure me there are
no bodies buried under The Rustic today, but they told me of something else
that happened there a few years ago. The story goes that Ted Turner –
of CNN fame and the largest landowner in Nebraska – came in off his buffalo
ranch north of Mullen for a bite of supper with then-wife Jane Fonda, the actress
and Vietnam War protester. The Rustic’s previous owner – whose father
was a war veteran – stopped the couple at the door.
“Mr. Turner,” he allegedly
said, “You can come in but that woman with you ain’t allowed.”
Turner and Fonda turned around and
haven’t been back to The Rustic since.
Mullen has a healthy little downtown
with a friendly business community. Ranchers here don’t like that Turner
is buying up the land. They say it drives up their property taxes and takes
ranch families out of business. But I’m certain that if he returned today
– even if he and Fonda were still married – local residents would
welcome them into their stores and restaurants, especially if he began spending
his money with them.